Run This Town
by BellaSalvatore1918
Summary: As punishment for his reckless bloodshed in New Orleans, Damon is compelled to turn and take responsibility for Morgan Kelly, a boring waitress that he was seconds away from killing before he was interrupted. Together, the two vampires are merciless; only, it's not long before they have to pull the brake on their fun and deal with the major consequences of their actions. Damon/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone. The plans for this story are sticking it to me...it's been the hardest to make plans for so far out of all of my stories, but I'm getting there. I've got the first 30 chapters done and I'm shooting for a 65 chapter story in the grand scheme of things. But maybe I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself here. This is the first chapter, after all. A little note, this is an alternate ending of the 3x22 finale where Elena dies...period. Which will be pretty clear in the chapter. Next chapter will have a time jump of about 5 months. **

**A little thing to get started: this story will be like a season between Seasons 3-4 if Elena had died instead of becoming a vampire in the finale. I will eventually come around to the Silas storyline in Season 4 and all that stuff, but for now, it'll be AU. And technically The Originals hasn't "started" yet, but because there's a 5 month gap between this chapter and the next, it's safe to say that Klaus found his way down to New Orleans with or without impregnating Hayley. So that's just a little hint for next chapter.**

**Anyways, enjoy this start! Tried to keep this in Damon and Stefan's characters (not that the writers try to do that anyways...Season 5 is my prime example but whatever) but I also needed the brother bonding theme in this chapter. Well, Stefan tries to do the whole brother bonding. Damon just...doesn't. Oh, well, ****I hope you all like it, and please tell me what you think in a review at the end.**

**Disclaimer: Everything TVD related is Julie Plec and Kevin Williamson's. I own none of the characters/storylines before this story begins. However, I do own my own characters, writing, and storyline. **

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Had it been for any other reason, Damon Salvatore actually might've glanced once or twice at his speedometer to check his rapidly increasing speed in his Camaro. Instead, he didn't take his eyes off the road. He had to get back to Mystic Falls.

He had to get to _her. _

The thought had hit him a few minutes after he watched Alaric Saltzman, his best friend and sole drinking buddy, die right in his arms. Though Alaric was trying to kill him at the time of his demise, it was still _Alaric. _Ric. But the thought that hit him went beyond Alaric. Beyond the fact that Damon, himself, came close to death by his best friend's hand. It was the thought that made his world shatter. The truth that made him feel so much pain, it blinded him.

Elena Gilbert was dead. It was the only explanation.

"Where is she?" Damon barked as he stormed into the hospital, preying to whatever God there was that there was another explanation for Alaric's death. In order for Alaric—the newly turned, all-powerful Original vampire determined to kill Original vampires—to die, Elena had to meet this fate first. Dr. Meredith Fell, the Mystic Falls General Hospital doctor who used vampire blood to heal her patients, immediately stopped talking to another doctor upon seeing Damon's impatient arrival.

"Damon—" Dr. Fell tried, but it was useless. Damon could hear Elena's words racing through his head and it broke him over and over again: _I care about you, Damon. Which is why I have to let you go. _

"Where is she?" Damon repeated, his voice louder this time. He looked around the hospital for where they were keeping the special doppelgänger, intent on finding her. She couldn't be…_dead._

"Damon, please calm—" Meredith tried again, but Damon spun around at her, his eyes cold and empty.

"Where is she?" he snapped, causing the human doctor to flinch at the frightening vampire. With hesitation, Meredith just swallowed and pointed to a room. The morgue.

"She's…she's in there." Damon immediately turned on his heel and pushed out everyone in his way to get to Elena. Meredith's protests kept sounding behind him, but Damon tuned them out. Instead, solutions tried to come to his mind. Maybe they could turn her. Maybe Bonnie could resurrect her like she did Jeremy. Elena couldn't _die. _She couldn't. Damon should hate her for choosing his brother, but he couldn't find it in himself to not care. It was a part of him now—a part that the moral Elena Gilbert instilled in hm.

But when Damon pushed open the door to the mortuary, he found himself losing all hope. His heart crushed into a million pieces when he saw his brother, the noble Stefan Salvatore, sitting beside his dead girlfriend with tears down his face. Damon didn't need to take one step to know that Elena was dead. Her body was rotting. He could smell the slow, uninviting decay.

Stefan looked up at his elder brother with watering green eyes. Neither one of the brothers said anything. But there was a single word that hung off the both of their mouths: _dead. _

Not in the vampire sense like they were, because they could be considered dead, too. No, she was truly and inexplicitly dead. Her cold body remained unmoved on a stretcher, soaked in water. She drowned. That's how she died.

Stefan and Damon were silent, the two brothers staring at the dead girl in the room. It was no secret between them that they equally shared so much affection for one teenager, but if anything, it had brought them closer. But Elena's death was sure to have its toll on them. It was only a matter of time.

And Damon liked to get things over with. His barely watering eyes moved up to glaze over the heartbroken Stefan.

"How?" Damon asked simply.

Stefan swallowed, choking back his tears for a moment. He returned his gaze to Elena and didn't look up to face Damon, who was focused on Elena as well. "Rebekah got to her. Stood in front of Matt's car. Elena and Matt went off the bridge. I jumped in to save her, but Elena told me to save Matt. I couldn't get back in time."

Suddenly, a fire sparked in Damon's eyes hearing this new information. It would be one thing if Stefan hadn't got there in time. It'd be another if Stefan hadn't even known they were on that bridge at all. But to _willingly _save Matt Donovan instead of the girl both brothers risked their lives for a million times over made Damon's head spin.

"You _what_?"

By now, Damon had turned to look at Stefan, rage completely blinding him. Stefan looked up to face his brother with a shameful look. "She wanted me to save him, Damon. I respected her choice."

A flash of anger overtook Damon, and he flitted to his brother, taking the younger Salvatore with him to the nearest wall. With Damon's hand wrapped around Stefan's throat, he threw Stefan back against the solid wood.

"You _respected _her choice? God _damn _it, Stefan! You let her _die_! _You. Let. Her. Die." _A furious Damon growled in his brother's face, his fangs braced for killing with monstrous veins slithering underneath his eyes. His grip tightened on Stefan's throat, but eventually, Damon saw the hurt in Stefan's eyes and he realized. The blind rage subsided, and Damon released Stefan so his brother doubled over with a cough. Damon backed away, the water in his eyes overflowing as he felt the pain that built inside of him. It was like his entire heart had been ripped out of his chest. And when that happened, Damon snapped and turned on his heel. "Matt Donovan is _dead_."

"What?" Stefan breathed out as Damon made headway for the door. Once Stefan realized what Damon was about to do, he flashed so that he blocked the murderous vampire from leaving. "No! You can't kill him, Damon!"

A hiss escaped Damon's mouth. "_Watch _me."

But despite the guilt that consumed Stefan Salvatore, he knew that the one person he had to look out for was Damon. Without Elena, Damon's whole world would break to pieces. Stefan hated that fact—the fact that his brother was in love with the same girl he was yet _again_—but it was the truth. And without Elena's goodness in Damon's heart, Stefan felt afraid that the old Damon would resurface. He could see a glimpse of that lethal Damon in his own brother's eyes.

"Damon! Damon," Stefan breathed out as Damon tried to move past him. Stefan put his hands on his brother shoulders and gripped the dark-haired vampire tight, delaying Damon until he wanted to get out of his grasp. "Killing Matt won't bring her back! It can't. You know that!"

"I can still kill him," Damon growled. Stefan tightened his grip on Damon for the life of him and shook his head.

"Damon, _please._ Elena didn't want him to die—that's why she had me save him," Stefan reasoned. The two brothers fell silent, and Stefan swallowed hard before looking back at the cold body on the stretcher. Damon's eyes wandered around the room and he tried so hard not to look back at her. "She's…she's gone."

The statement was obvious, yes; but it was what Damon needed to hear. The heartbroken vampires looked back at the girl they both loved and came to the same, darkening conclusion.

Elena Gilbert was gone.

* * *

As hard as he tried, Damon couldn't stop himself from thinking about the last time he was out soaking up the sun in the middle of a cemetery for a Gilbert funeral. It was when Jenna Sommers and John Gilbert passed as a result of Klaus Mikaelson's hybrid ritual. Elena placed a single rose on each of her dearly departed family members' spots, her eyes wet with tears. Damon had watched her from afar with the knowledge that he was going to die soon. Of course, he had made his brother promise not to tell Elena, because Damon knew that it would just be another body for Elena to bury.

And here they were…burying Elena's body. Sometimes Damon thought it would've been easier if Stefan never found a cure for his werewolf bite. He could've died knowing that Elena was okay. To live for the rest of eternity knowing that Elena chose Stefan just minutes before she died? It broke Damon down to pieces.

Not that he would show it.

Damon kept to himself at the back of the pack of people surrounded around Elena's grave. Bonnie, Jeremy, Caroline, Tyler, Matt, Sheriff Forbes, Bill Forbes, and Carol Lockwood were all crying and weeping over Elena and Alaric's graves. Stefan was trying to hold himself together the best he can, but Damon was crumbling. He was a ticking time bomb. And everyone around him knew it.

Damon didn't look at Matt Donovan once. In his eyes, it was all Matt and Stefan's faults. But instead of reverting to old ways to blame his brother, Damon resorted to wishing Matt the worst death he could possibly imagine. Matt should've been the one who died. He really should've. It might've been an awful thing for Damon to think, but it was the truth. Matt deserved to be in Elena's place. Anyone deserved to be in Elena's place. All Damon wanted was for her to be _alive _again.

It had been a week since that dreadful day where Alaric and Elena both died, and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. As it turned out, Bonnie had saved Klaus from dying by switching his body with Tyler's. Rebekah ran from Mystic Falls as soon as she realized that Elena was dead and her brother was returned back into his own body. Elijah had left long before what happened to Elena on the bridge. It only took Elena's death for the town to be rid of the Originals. After all, there was nothing there for them anymore. Elena was their sole purpose for terrorizing Mystic Falls. It made Damon want to take a white oak stake and aim, but Stefan wouldn't let him do that.

Stefan had tried to keep the peace between both him and Damon, and he also tried his best to hold Damon together. Stefan was failing miserably at holding _himself_ together, but he was attempting to help Damon, too. However, it wasn't working. And he hadn't really expected it to.

Caroline was falling apart; Bonnie was trying to fix everything with magic; Jeremy was throwing himself into exercise to get rid of the pain that came along with being an orphan; Matt was wallowing in self-pity; Tyler was mourning the loss of a lifelong friend; Stefan was focused on keeping everything together; and Damon drowned himself in sorrows. The whole town was a wreck. Elena's death had ruined the lives of each and every one of the people closest to her. She was their rock, and she was gone.

And on top of Elena's death, Alaric's had an effect the group as well. The teenagers lost their friend, Jeremy lost his father figure, and Damon lost his drinking buddy. It seemed unfair to them all that two people that were the closest to them could be ripped away so quickly.

After Elena and Alaric's funerals, Damon had wound up at the Grill, drinking himself into an abyss like he'd been doing for the past week. He kept two glasses with him and always held the seat next to him available, hissing at anyone who dared to sit on the stool. He drank for him and his friend and tried desperately to numb the pain of his great loss. But Damon was deteriorating with every growing moment. The woman he loved and his best friend were never coming back, and it was something he didn't know how to cope with that. He didn't _want _to cope with that. Losing Elena to Stefan was heartbreaking, but bearable. Losing Elena period was unimaginable. The only thing that held Damon together were the endless bottles of bourbon, but even that was starting to falter. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep it together.

Stefan entered the Grill, looking for his melancholic brother, desperate to try and get through to Damon once more. It had been quiet around the Salvatore house for the past week. Damon was rarely ever home, and if he was, he wasn't approachable. Stefan hated himself for how Elena's death affected Damon. He hated seeing his brother in so much pain. But he wasn't going to deny the fact that he felt pain, too. Pain that was so unbearable, it was hard to even _begin _to fathom. He just tried to convince himself that being with his brother was what Elena would've wanted.

When Stefan reached Damon at the bar, he tried to sit down in the seat on the left side of Damon. Instead, the dark-haired vampire held out his arm to prevent Stefan from sitting, and he just shook his head.

"That seat's taken."

Stefan raised an eyebrow, but when he saw that Damon didn't even look up at him, he just sighed and walked around Damon's stool to the available seat. Damon sipped out of his glass while Stefan began to talk.

"Caroline told me that they're all going to go back to the Lockwood house to properly…mourn." Stefan cleared his throat uncomfortably, watching as the drunken Damon just scoffed.

"A walk down memory lane with the kids? Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Damon, you spend every night here," the younger sibling tried to reason. "Don't you think that she would've—"

Damon's voice was cold and hard as he cut his own flesh and blood off from his sentence. "Don't you _dare _try to tell me that she would've wanted better, Stefan. I'm not talking about it."

But Stefan was tired of this. He knew Damon was hurting; that wasn't up for a debate. What he wanted was for Damon to stop moping and try to move on. Moping around drinking bourbon all day wouldn't bring Elena or Alaric back from the dead. The younger Salvatore thought that the best thing for his brotherhood would be to leave Damon to himself, but now he could see that Damon was dwindling down into a deep hole that wasn't ever going to end. What kind of brother would he be if he didn't try to help Damon?

"Yeah, well then what _are _you going to do?" Stefan asked, trying to be as rough as he needed to gain Damon's attention. Sure enough, Damon's hazy blue eyes caught his brother's green ones. "Because sitting around here every day and night isn't helping anyone. It's not helping me, it's not helping her, and it's _really _not helping yourself."

Damon's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry I don't _feel_ like walking down the street singing an _Annie _song, Stefan. We just lost Elena because you had to…oh, what was it? Respect her _decision_?" he spat.

Stefan's fist came down on the bar, causing Damon to jump slightly. "You don't think I don't hate myself every day for not saving her first? I do, Damon. _Every. _Day. But I can't sit here and beat myself up about it when there's nothing I can _do. _Bonnie's been through every spell in Emily's Grimoire and she can't find anything that can bring her back."

"She shouldn't have died in the first place," Damon murmured after a moment of staring at his forceful brother. "She shouldn't have been on that bridge."

Without another word, Damon just swung himself off of the barstool and moved towards the back exit of the Grill, hoping to evade his brother's oddly happy grieving attitude. It only made Damon think of the possibilities. If she hadn't chosen Stefan, she wouldn't have been on that bridge. Even so, if Stefan had saved her first, the only person they'd have to mourn would be Matt. Evil Alaric would still be around, yes, but they could've found a way to fix him. It didn't have to be this way.

But hopes of escaping his pesky brother were shot when Damon finally came out into the cool air and he could hear Stefan trot after him. However, Damon was about to boil over. The past week had been too much for him. Elena and Alaric's deaths, Stefan breathing down his neck, everyone acting like Elena died a hero…it made Damon hurt ten times worse. Elena didn't die a hero—she didn't have to die _at all. _If only she'd made a better choice. If only Stefan had made a better choice. If only…it was all Damon could say. He couldn't change the past, no matter how hard he tried.

And that's what killed him. What ripped him to the very core. There were so many ways to avoid her death, but somehow, fate screwed him over.

"Damon—" Stefan began as he walked outside, but Damon spun around sharply. He'd had enough. It was time his brother knew the truth.

"She died because of _you_," Damon growled angrily, causing Stefan to stand still. The door behind him came to a shut, leaving them outside in the cool October air alone. "Not because you decided to save Matt over her, but because she was on that bridge for _you_. She wanted to go back to Mystic Falls. She chose…" Damon's eyes looked down to the floor as he said the wretched word: "…You."

Stefan swallowed hard as he saw the pain behind his brother's eyes. Damon shook his head roughly. "If only she'd just chosen me, she wouldn't have been on that bridge in the first place. She would've been alive," the elder vampire whispered.

What could a brother say to that? Stefan's eyes filled up with tears watching as Damon made the heartbreaking confession that he'd already come to the conclusion of long before Damon told him. How could he try to tell Damon that it was okay?

"She loved you, too, Damon." It was all Stefan could come up with. It was all he could think of to ease Damon's pain. Instead, Damon just refused and scoffed.

"Yeah. Yeah, she did. And that's why it _hurts _so goddamn much," he snapped, turning from Stefan. "I won't do it anymore." His voice was nothing but a whisper.

Stefan stepped forward. "Okay. Okay, Damon…we can…we can leave town. Or…you can leave town by yourself, if that's what you want." Damon looked up at the sky and scoffed as Stefan tried to reason from behind him. "You don't have to stay here."

Damon didn't say anything else. He was done talking—talking about feelings, talking about Elena, talking about…anything. The pain had pooled so wildly in him that it was taking control of his emotions, his fragile emotions. And if there was one thing that Damon Salvatore absolutely _despised, _it was his emotions taking the control. He only had to keep them in check for Elena, but Elena wasn't alive anymore, was she? What was the point of holding on? He wasn't strong—he couldn't be the one to stay strong for him _and _Stefan. Stefan was trying to do it all, but that wasn't Damon. It'd never be Damon.

So when Stefan finally caught onto what Damon was doing, Damon didn't even say a word. The younger brother opened his mouth, but was interrupted when the back entrance to the Grill was opened and one of the Grill's pretty, young, and _human _waitresses stepped out with a bag of trash in her hand. Stefan's eyes widened as he looked at the human, and time just seemed to stop for a moment. One glance back at Damon, and he knew that his brother was done. Gone.

"Damon, no—" Stefan tried, but it was pointless. _Too late. It's too late. _

Damon flitted forward, plunged his fangs into the human's neck, and ripped the waitress apart with his vile and hungry teeth. In seconds, the human's body dropped to the ground and Damon turned around with empty, cold eyes and a high-on-blood smile that had Stefan cringing on the inside and out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Five Months Later_

Despite the fact that New Orleans was one of the busiest cities in the world, Rousseau's was unusually calm on the late Thursday evening. A few customers here and there would order some gumbo and a drink, but for the most part, the restaurant was quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the television playing in the background.

"_The city of New Orleans is devastated over the recent loss of so many loved ones. It has yet to be determined what animal or person is creating such chaos, but authorities have assured us that they are working around the clock to find and eliminate the risk of being attacked." _

Ellie Cartwright of Channel 7 News reported this, her high-pitched nasally voice sounding throughout Rousseau's. Camille O'Connell and Morgan Kelly watched the story from the bar, basking in its seriousness.

"Oh, my God," Cami said from behind the bar, shaking her head. "This is terrible."

Morgan straightened from her leaning position over the bar. "I know. It's so weird…all these random 'animal attacks' in New Orleans. I mean, is there a bear hiding down Bourbon Street or something?" she asked in disbelief, wrinkling her nose at the thought. Cami laughed.

"I don't think it's a bear, Morgan. And I definitely don't think it's hiding on Bourbon Street." The blonde took out a rag from behind the bar and began to wipe it down, removing all of the sticky alcohol stains. Morgan tapped her pen against the order pad she had in her other hand.

"Do you think it could be a person?" suggested the redhead, spinning a theory of her own. Cami looked up at her. "Like a Jack the Ripper copycat or something?"

Cami snickered. "The bodies were drained of blood. Unless I'm mistaking, Jack the Ripper didn't drain the bodies of _blood_." Morgan shrugged, understanding Cami's counter-argument. "But if it is a person, it's not a Jack the Ripper copycat. It's probably a psychopath who believes that draining the bodies of blood will serve some greater purpose. Maybe a ritual or something." Camille said the theory like it wasn't scary at all, when in fact; it was scary to a normal person like Morgan.

Morgan sighed and backed away from the bar. "Yeah…I'm done listening to psychology-talk. I'm going to go check on the customers now."

While she turned and went to routinely ask her customers if they needed something, Cami watched as the front door opened and in stepped a male, dressed in black leather from head to toe. Cami thought it was peculiar, but the tourists that came down to Louisiana were weird sometimes. Morgan didn't notice, as she was too busy with her seated customers, but Cami definitely took interest in this one. He sauntered, almost cat-like, over to the bar with an outstretched smirk. Cami wasn't embarrassed for staring; she just leaned against the counter with a rag in one hand and watched as the suspicious male sat right in front of her.

"What can I get you?" the blonde asked politely.

"Bourbon. Neat," Damon answered her. Cami nodded and reached down to grab the bottle of bourbon-whiskey and a glass to pour it in. Damon glanced around the quaint New Orleans restaurant, finding it nice and homey. There were so many meals to choose from…so little time to choose it. He noticed that closing time was coming around the corner, and the rest of Louisiana went into the solitary of their homes. It seemed that Damon caused quite a scare mass-murdering half of the town.

Not that he _cared_.

"Here you go," Cami chimed as she placed Damon's drink in front of him. Damon tilted it towards her in approval and pulled the glass to his lips. He looked over Cami and thought about all the things he could do with a _bartender. _But that was sacred ground he walked on; alcohol was something dear to him. It would be sacrilegious to kill the bearer of such an important substance. Besides, he wasn't in the mood for a blonde.

"Cami, can I get another vodka on the rocks?" Morgan asked as she came up to the bar beside their newest customer and handed Cami the empty glass. Damon's head turned and he caught sight of the fire-red hair in his vision. His head tilted. _Bingo. _Red would do.

Damon hummed under his breath, causing Morgan to look over at him. "Why aren't _you _the bartender, gorgeous?"

The redhead scoffed. "Because…I'm a waitress," she answered simply, almost rolling her eyes. Damon straightened in his seat.

"Well, then, am I allowed to order a meal?"

Over the counter, Cami handed Morgan the vodka on the rocks, and Morgan mouthed a "thank you" before turning to the customer on her side. She just gave him a bitter smile. "Cami can help you with that."

She turned to move back to her other customers, but Damon spun his chair around to face her. "Well, what if I wanted _you _to help me with that?"

Morgan stopped and turned around, sighing. She slapped her hands against her sides with a shrug. "You should've sat down at a table, then."

Damon watched as the waitress returned to her customers loyally and served them their drinks before moving onto the next table. Turning around to the bar, Damon found Cami staring at him with raised eyebrows, but he paid no attention to her. She was just left to watch as Damon downed the rest of his bourbon and tapped the glass twice, indicating for Cami to refill it. With a sigh, she did what the motion told her to do, and he took the now full glass and got up from the bar. Cutting across the way, Damon made his way over to a table and slid inside of a booth, kicking his feet up on the length of the other side. He took a lingering sip out of his bourbon glass as he kept his eye on his redheaded prey that walked from another table and over to the blonde bartender. Damon decided not to listen in on their conversation out of disinterest and arrogance—he knew exactly what they were talking about: _him_. That was proven when the redheaded waitress looked to see Damon, and he waved at her tauntingly.

Sometimes it was just too much _fun_.

Squaring her jaw, Damon watched as the feisty redhead waked over to him and leaned against the other side of the booth. "Really?"

Damon shrugged. "You told me to sit down at a table, didn't you?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, this time not refraining, but she pulled out her pad and paper and sighed. "What can I get for you?"

* * *

To be frank, Damon could spend all _night _in a bar…especially on Bourbon Street. It was one of his favorite places to come because, despite the street had the same name of his favorite alcoholic beverage, the bars were open all night twenty-four/seven. So, why would it make sense for Damon to wait out in the street for a certain redheaded waitress to lock up Rousseau's?

It was simple: the stalk, the kill…that was his favorite part. He loved to watch his victims look at him with surprise as they realized they were about to be drained of their entire life before their eyes. There was some sick joy in it. Joy, to an emotionless vampire, was the _kill._

The blood. It drove vampires like him; dominated their every thought. Blood was power.

Morgan locked up Rousseau's, seeing as Sophie Deveraux, the owner, had mysteriously disappeared a few weeks back and left the bar in Cami and Morgan's care. They had tried to contact her over and over again, but they couldn't figure out where she was. It was strange, but not unlike Sophie if history was any indication. They just had to grin and bare it.

When Morgan turned to start heading down the street to go back home, she found herself blocked. Damon stood in her way, his entire body practically disappearing with the color of the night. Morgan gasped out of surprise and stepped back, finding her heart beating practically out of her chest at the scare.

"Holy…_shit_!" she snapped, looking Damon up and down. Damon smirked at her and said nothing. "What is your _problem_?"

Again, Damon said nothing. His signature smirk just kept upon his lips and he stood still. His eyes watched as Morgan slowly began to realize just how creepy he was, and he could practically hear her thoughts in his mind. It pleased him to know that he scared the lives of so many humans. There was, again, a sick pleasure to it. It was a part of his _nature. _

So when Morgan backed away and tried to turn in fear and weariness of the stranger, Damon couldn't let her get away. He moved so that he was in front of her in a flash, and that's when it started to sink into her that there was something abnormal about him. He had to admit—it was impressive that she didn't waste time with idiotic questions that some of his victims asked. "Who are you" and "Why are you doing this to me" seemed to be the most popular questions. But Morgan…no, she ran like a bat out of hell. Turned on her foot and started sprinting across the street for any sign of life that could help her. When Damon realized this potential threat, he flashed again and barred his fangs, done with the games. She screamed, only to be cut off halfway through when he sunk his fangs into her flesh and drained the living daylights out of her. His hand covered her mouth as he drank, finding that her blood was one of the sweetest he'd ever tasted. It coated his throat and he seemed to bathe in it, using his other hand to wrap her around. Somewhat of a moan escaped his lips at the taste of her blood. But this wasn't the last to be had tonight—Damon had much more planned up his sleeve.

Just as he could feel the last seconds of the waitress's life flow from her neck into his mouth, Damon was roughly shoved. He flew back, landing flat on the concrete face-first. Morgan's blood coated his mouth, and Damon coughed at the impact of the blow.

"Damon Salvatore!" someone boomed. Damon forced himself up from the road with a groan, already more pissed off than he'd been in months. He turned around to find a dark-skinned vampire with his arms outstretched in a position of power. Damon could've taken him on, but there happened to also be an army of vampires surrounding this one vampire. One of the vampire minions pulled the half-dead waitress up from the road where she dropped and everyone could hear the girl groan. Damon stumbled and made eye contact with the leader of the group, who pointed at him. "You've been making quite a mess in _my_ town."

The old Damon would've been civil—maybe even _diplomatic, _but that was the furthest thing from this Damon's mind at the moment. He wiped the blood off his lips with the back of his hand. "I wasn't aware vampires had _territories _now. Must've missed the Google alert. I'm sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?"

"Marcel," the almighty vampire told him cautiously. "Marcel Gerard."

"Well, _Marcel Gerard_," Damon sneered, "I appreciate the _hospitality, _but..." In a flash, the dark-haired vampire moved up to Marcel and wrapped his hand around the other vampire's throat. "You _interrupted _something."

Marcel choked, but he eventually was able to twist Damon's hand off of his throat. Marcel was older by around 30 years, which was enough significance to tip the scales in his favor. Once Marcel was able to breathe, Damon looked at him with hard eyes and watched as the powerful vampire _tsk_ed. "You're an impulsive one, aren't you? That'll get you killed one day."

Damon scoffed carelessly, but Marcel just nodded at him. The Salvatore looked confused, but it all suddenly made sense when three vampires—young vampires, but strength combined that surpassed Damon's—came up and grabbed him. Without emotions, Damon wasn't all that worried. He was more entertained than anything. Marcel just stepped forward.

"That day could be today," Marcel whispered, his voice nothing but a hiss. Damon didn't flinch once, and Marcel turned around to face his army of vampires. "_This _is the vampire that has been terrorizing our town! Threatening to _expose _us!" The vampire turned to the half-dead girl in one of his minion's arms. He knew her, personally, of course. It was Morgan Kelly, the waitress that worked in Rousseau's. But along with working at said bar, she also worked alongside Cami, whom Marcel had a certain interest in. Any friend of Cami's was a friend of his. "_Killing _our people!"

Damon couldn't help it. With his head hung, he started to laugh involuntarily, just finding the whole situation funny for some reason. Marcel spun around instantly to find Damon in the middle of his laughter fit, and when Damon found Marcel staring, he tried to stop laughing.

"I-I'm sorry…this is just so…so _ridiculous_." Damon snorted, laughing more. Marcel clenched his fists. "I was _terrorizing _people? Well, duh! I'm a vampire! That's what we _do_."

"There are rules," Marcel snapped, stepping forward. Now, he was pissed—Damon could see that clearly. "And you broke them."

"That sounds like a _personal _problem!" Damon spat, having had enough of all the bullshit that he was being accused of. Damon looked around at all the vampires and nodded to Marcel. "Come on. All of you are just going to _sit _here and pretend like you don't want to do the same thing I've done? Feeding on people is what we _do. _It's who we _are." _Damon looked back at Marcel and sneered, "There are no _rules_."

"You _really _are stupid, aren't you?" Marcel hissed, getting right up in Damon's face. He didn't take kindly to being undermined. "Only _weak _vampires shut off their humanity. It's a cop-out. In my opinion, you _deserve _to die."

"Oh, give the boy a break." It was neither Marcel nor Damon who spoke—it was someone within the crowd. Marcel turned around, and Damon closed his eyes as he realized who it was that had spoken up. From the crowd emerged Klaus with his hands clasped behind his back in an elegant manner. Damon was less than interested in the Original's presence. "He lost the love of his _pathetic_, little life."

"Klaus," Damon murmured, looking up at the hybrid as he stepped up beside Marcel. "What a _lovely _surprise."

"Damon," Klaus greeted back, smiling tightly. "You look _miserable._"

"Funny, because I actually feel quite the opposite," Damon commented snidely. Klaus didn't need to confirm it, but this sentence instantly validated the thought that Damon had shut off his humanity because of Elena's death. It was sad, but Klaus understood…on some level. Besides, he knew that dying was something Damon _wanted, _in a twisted way. Klaus wasn't about to give Damon exactly what he was wishing for.

"We're not killing him," Klaus announced, throwing a side-glance to Marcel. Marcel raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's what he wants. And I'm not going to be the one to give him what he wants, are you?"

"He's created an _uproar _here," Marcel said angrily, looking back at Damon. "Because of him, feeding has been so scarce—"

Klaus waved a hand at Marcel. "Nothing a dead mountain lion or bear won't fix." He turned to walk back to the half-dead human in Diego's arms. "She's not dead?"

Diego shook his head tightly. He didn't like Klaus, but he had no choice but to tolerate him since Marcel knew him personally and considered him a guest. "No, she's not. I can feed her my blood—"

Klaus ignored Diego and turned on his heel to walk back to Damon, who was being restrained by the three vampires. Klaus motioned for them to let up on the Salvatore, and Damon jerked his arms back to his own sides. He wanted to run, but he knew he wouldn't get far—not with Klaus there. He didn't get angry or anything that required emotion, he just gave them a look of displeasure as Klaus grabbed the back of his neck and forced him over to Morgan.

"You know, Damon. If there's one thing about you that I have come to realize, it's that you _love _to take responsibility for people. After all, you and your brother wouldn't quit saving your doppelgänger girlfriend. But as an emotionless vampire, I imagine this is what you wanted to run from." Klaus pulled Damon around and clasped down on the younger vampire's shoulders to hold him in place. Knowing that an emotionless Damon would never think to keep up on the tradition of forcing vervain down his throat, Klaus began to compel him, "Your punishment, Damon Salvatore, is _responsibility. _You are going to take this young girl, you are going to feed her your blood, and you're going to _kill _her."

"I'm going to kill her," Damon repeated, having no choice but to. As a vampire, you were more conscious to compulsion, but you still had no choice. Klaus smiled.

"She will wake as a vampire, you will take her out of town, and she will be _your _responsibility. Under no circumstances will you abandon her or even _kill_ her. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." Klaus shoved Damon off of him and Damon bit the inside of his mouth, realizing just what kind of a situation Klaus put him in. No longer could he care about no one and only look after himself, he had someone _else. _And that was going to put a damper on the rest of eternity for him. "Now do it. Right now."

Having no other choice, Damon pulled his hand up to his mouth and bit the outer edge of his palm. Diego extended Morgan out to Damon, who took her and pressed his palm to her lips. She drank, slowly at first, then rapidly as she gained strength, and Damon was left to stare at the concrete. He couldn't be angry, he couldn't be sad. All he could do was pull his wrist away from Morgan's mouth and snap her neck.

She fell to the road, and Damon stared down at her with no emotion at all. Behind him, Klaus smirked, and then he ordered all the vampires to clear out.

* * *

**I don't know if that was short or not...I guess, in hindsight, it was a little. But whatever, this was just the starter chapter really. Thanks for reading and review if you can!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The light blue 1969 Chevy Camaro raced down the highway at a speed well over the presented limit. Inside the classic car, Damon beat his hands rhythmically on the steering wheel while mouthing the words to AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" that was projecting from the car's stereo. He kept his eyes alert and only pressed on the gas pedal harder, trying to get out of the rural, unpopulated part of the highway. The sun was rising in the east, meeting the word with an orange glow.

If Damon cared, he would've thought it was beautiful.

All of a sudden, Damon heard the sweet, sweet sound of a vampire being made—a gasp. From beside him, the unfortunate redheaded girl jolted upright in the passenger seat, completely unfamiliar with her surroundings. Damon peered at her from the side.

"Morning, gorgeous."

Morgan's breathing was quick, not by her own accord. She felt sore, like there was a crick in her neck that was ten times worse than the usual. She brought her hand around to cup her neck and rub it in attempt to sooth the bones beneath, but she wasn't finding any progress. It took a moment for her to realize where she was and whom she was with.

Damon was unimpressed with her when she gasped again and moved away from him. He almost rolled his eyes out of irritation.

"What the _fuck_?!" she screamed out. "It's you! The guy who attacked me! What are you doing? Why am I in a car?"

The vampire didn't answer. Instead, he pressed a button on his door that locked all the other ones just as Morgan pulled and pulled at the door to get out of the car, even though it was moving. With a sigh, Damon reached over and slapped her hands away.

"Don't break my car. If you do…" He was about to tell her that he'd kill her, but he realized quickly that he physically _could not. _Damon cursed under his breath. "Damn it. I can't even make that _threat _anymore."

Morgan trembled out of fear beside him. "Take me back. Take me _home._"

Damon took out a deep breath and relaxed in his driving position. He looked over at her and caught her blue eyes. "I wish I could; believe me...but I can't. Things are about to get really _freaky _for you, unfortunately, we have to stay together."

The red-haired girl shook her head. "What does that _mean_? Freaky? We have to stay together? Look, I don't _know _you!"

Damon scoffed. "Well, that'll change real soon." He glanced over at her. "My name is Damon Salvatore."

Morgan stared at him for a while and processed that. He had kidnapped her and was now…just openly telling her his name? "Well, _Damon_ _Salvatore_, I want to go _home. _Now."

Now, he was losing his patience. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said? You _can't _go home. Neither one of us can return to New Orleans right now. I had to take you out of town."

"Why?"

"Because I was compelled to," Damon growled. He had been so arrogant that he had stopped taking vervain, and it was the worst mistake of his entire life. Not only was he thoroughly humiliated by the hybrid _dick _and his arrogant sidekick, he was now stuck with taking care of some newborn vampire who would just slow him down.

"Compelled?"

"Think of it as a demand…one that I can't physically refuse." He exhaled. "And, trust me, if I had the ability to refuse, I would."

"What do you want from me?" Morgan asked, ignoring his side comments. "Money? I barely make enough to support _myself_! I'm a waitress, not a CEO!"

Damon scoffed. "I don't need money. Personally, I want nothing from you, but as I've said, I have no other choice."

Things were quiet for a moment, and Damon watched the girl in his passenger seat as she began to flip out, a string of words coming out of her mouth like a waterfall.

"I…I don't understand. What happened to me? Why does my head hurt? Why can I…why can I _see _everything clearly? Why can I _hear…_everything? Why am I so—?"

"Hungry?" Damon finished for her, shifting in the driver's seat. Morgan stopped short and looked at him, finding the word had been taken right out of her mouth. He shrugged. "It's normal. Unfortunately for you, you'll have to stay that way a little longer."

Morgan stared at the dashboard of the car for a moment before finally breathing out, "Stop the car."

The dark-haired vampire sighed. "Listen, gorgeous—"

"I said, _stop the car_!" Morgan shouted loudly without looking at him. Damon groaned as she started to pull at the handle on the door frantically. "Unlock the doors! Let me out! Let me out, let me out, let me _out_!"

"Okay!" A frustrated Damon pulled his car over to the side of the deserted road and grumbled to himself, "God, you were so much more tolerable _dead_."

After coming to a complete stop on the road, Damon put his Camaro in park and unlocked the doors. The second the convertible's doors became escapable, the transitional vampire hurriedly opened the car doors and prepared to run. Instead, Damon flashed over to her and trapped her between the body of the car and his own build. He smiled down at her sadistically as she gulped down the fear in her throat.

"Nice try," Damon deadpanned. "But, if I were you, I wouldn't try that again."

"What do you _want_?" Morgan asked him exhaustedly, leaning against the car in exasperation. She didn't understand anything that was going on. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what's happening to me. I don't want to _be _here, I want to go back."

"You _can't_ go back," Damon told her for the umpteenth time. "_I_ can't go back. What don't you understand about that?"

"Nothing! This doesn't make sense to me at all!"

"Get back in the car." The girl was trying his patience to the very maximum. Nevertheless, she didn't move. Her jaw remained tight and he immediately saw how difficult it was going to be dealing with her. She was a stubborn one, he recognized. "I don't know if you heard me, but I said to get back in the car."

"Tell me what's happening to me. Why did you take me?"

"I already told you, I was compelled to!"

"That's not an answer!" Morgan barked angrily. "Who _are _you? You attacked me last night! At Rousseau's! I don't understand what you want with me, what did I—"

"You want to know what's happening to you? You're in transition to become a vampire." Damon's cold eyes stared into Morgan's as he saw her face immediately fall and her mind start to turn in wonder. He recognized the expression all too well. A signature smirk came onto his face. "Now get back in the goddamn car."

* * *

Morgan shoveled a forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth as they sat at the roadside diner in one of the isolated corner booths. Damon watched her intently, finding it interesting as the transitional vampire scoffed down so much food with disdain.

"This tastes like ass," she complained, but yet shoveled another forkful into her mouth. "God, why does it taste this way? I love scrambled eggs!"

"That's the transition talking," Damon informed her, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. He watched as the red-haired girl's face turned down as she was reminded of her transition. "Once you feed, your taste buds should go back to normal. Right now, there's one thing and one thing only that you're craving."

Morgan was silent for a moment before whispering, "Blood?" Though Damon didn't appreciate the meekness of her question, he nodded and watched while she leaned back and threw the fork on her plate frustratedly. "I just don't get it. Vampires aren't real!"

The eldest Salvatore laughed wholeheartedly. "Oh, they're real, gorgeous. Get used to it."

"My name's not 'gorgeous'_,_" she chastised him, scowling. "It's Morgan. Morgan Kelly." Damon shrugged as she leaned forward to the plate and passed it to grab the glass of water that was in front of her. "And I'm still a little confused. So…you _bit_ me and I became a vampire?"

"No," Damon corrected, "I bit you because I was hungry. That has nothing to do with how you turned. I fed you my blood and then snapped your neck, so you essentially died_, _and now that you're awake, you'll have about a day and a half to feed before you _really _die."

Morgan stared open-mouthed. "That's…super complicated."

"Mmhmm," Damon agreed as the waitress came up beside them. He was quite fond of this waitress, eyeing her blonde hair and her tight, supermodel-like body. What was it with waitresses? Morgan watched as the look of desire crossed Damon's face, and she scoffed and leaned back in the booth, dissatisfied with Damon's attention span.

"Is there anything else you want?" the waitress asked rudely, clearly disinterested in her daily job. Damon didn't blame her—she looked too out of place to be in the mustard-colored uniform that was presumably standard for the diner.

"We're fine for now, thanks." Morgan gave the waitress a kind smile and watched as the girl blew a bubble out of her gum and walked to the only other customers in the diner. When she was gone, Damon was still staring after her, and Morgan just sighed. "So you're telling me that I'm stuck with _you _for…basically, _eternity_?"

Damon's blue orbs traveled to her own and watched as Morgan cocked an eyebrow at him. He smirked. "Is there something wrong with being stuck with me?"

"You tried to _kill_ me and then you turned me into a vampire because you were told to. I've known you all of fifteen minutes and I'm not all that fond."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual." Morgan scoffed, impressed with his honesty. "But yes_, _you're stuck with me. Just like I'm stuck with you, honey."

"Who'd you piss off in order to get that to happen?" the intuitive transitional vampire asked, shoveling another distasteful forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"An all-powerful vampire-werewolf dick who thought it'd be a nice life_ lesson. _I blame his brother. Elijah's just so damn moral_." _Damon's snide answer earned a sneer, but he watched as Morgan's mouth opened for another question, presumably about the Originals. He held up a hand. "Not today, gorgeous. The Originals will have to be a story for another time. We've got to get going."

Damon stood from the table and threw a bunch of bills down, assuming that it was enough. Morgan grimaced.

"From what I've gathered, I'm pretty sure we have the rest of eternity."

"I do," Damon agreed. "You, however, do _not_. Get up."

Reluctantly, Morgan slid herself out of the booth as Damon left her side for merely a second to speak to the supermodel-like waitress. Morgan considered making a run for it, but if she had learned anything, it was that Damon was older, faster, and stronger than she was. Besides, she didn't know what to do with her life now that she was…apparently, a _vampire. _The word still sounded sour to her, as if it weren't real. She wouldn't be surprised if the last hour and a half turned out to be a dream.

Morgan found Damon beckoning her outside just as the waitress exited the building and he followed closely behind. The girl was confused, to say the least, but she followed Damon right outside, finding herself both intrigued and obligated. The second she stepped out into the early, brisk morning, she found Damon with his teeth latched around the waitress's throat. Morgan gasped at the sight.

"Damon, what are you doing?" she asked, but was too afraid to stop him. From what she'd learned, he wasn't in the mood to be fucked with.

Damon pulled away from the waitress's neck with minimal blood on his lips. "Having a morning bite. Watch and learn."

She fell silent and did what he asked. She watched as Damon sucked the life out of the waitress ounce by ounce, and it rocked a sick feeling through her stomach. She would have to do…_that_? But there was also a part inside of her that was yearning to do what Damon was doing—to taste the tiny droplets of blood that inevitably came upon Damon's full lips or dripped onto the human's neck. Morgan suppressed the hunger in her throat for a reason unknown to her.

"Why can't I have any?"

She found herself asking the question with just as much knowledge as she'd had to why she was suppressing the hunger inside of her. Damon pulled away from the human's throat again, a satisfied look crossing his vampire features. He didn't say anything for a moment until the slithering veins disappeared underneath his eyes and they returned to the normal white color that of a human's.

"Because," Damon wiped his mouth with his hand, "if you feed before I get you a daylight ring, you will burn in the sunlight and you _will_ die. So, like I said, this might be unfortunate for you, but you'll have to deal with it. We're almost there."

"Where is 'there'?" she repeated, her eyes looking from side to side in confusion. Damon held up a finger to her and turned back to the waitress. He held her by the shoulders and sighed.

"It's been a long night and I don't want to bury a body. So consider yourself lucky." Damon's eyes dilated. "Go back inside; forget this ever happened."

The waitress's brown eyes complied, and once she was released, she turned on her heels and walked past Morgan into the diner. Damon beckoned Morgan forth so they could walk to the car, but she was still waiting for an answer.

"I…don't want to say yet. You'll see," he told her vaguely. Morgan crossed her arms.

"I'm not kicking or screaming anymore, am I? If I'm being kidnapped, I'd like to know where I'm going." _Odd statement, _she noted.

Damon groaned. "Oh, come on. I thought we established this—you're not being _kidnapped. _This is your life now, whether you like it or not." He opened her car door and leaned against the frame of the window with a smirk. "Better learn to trust me, gorgeous. Otherwise, it'll be one hell of an eternity."

Morgan eyed him carefully. "You're just going to take this lying down? You don't want to be with me any more than I want to be with you."

Sighing at her stubbornness, Damon shut the door and stepped closer, giving a look of agreement. "_True. _But, I figure, if everything works out to the way I hope…" He surveyed her, looking her up and down. Morgan suddenly felt uncomfortable as his eyes captured hers. "We can have some fun."

She opened her mouth to retort, but instead figured that there was no use. She didn't want to spend the rest of her day arguing in the parking lot—and from what Damon said, it seems like she had limited time before the clock timed out.

"So…how long will it take for us to get to this place? Will I have enough time?"

"You should." Damon shrugged. "But that all depends on the witch."

The transitional vampire's eyes widened. "There are _witches, _too?" Damon nodded, but this wasn't as much of a shock to her as the secret of vampires was. "Are you kidding me? If witches were real, there would've been a dozen in New Orleans! They're everywhere!"

Damon snorted. "If you think all of those witches are real, you are definitely too trusting." The girl frowned at him, not impressed with his nit picking. Damon, in return, scowled right back at her. "Like I said, I needed to get us out of New Orleans. I wasn't given a day pass. He said to get out of town after you woke up."

"Can't you at least tell me the _name _of this town we're going to?" Morgan begged. She was never a girl for surprises—they always frightened her. The unexpected was a scary thing to deal with sometimes.

Damon pursed his lips before he smirked and opened her car door again. He stepped aside so she could get in and nodded.

"Mystic Falls," he answered. "We're going to Mystic Falls."

* * *

Emotions flooded in and out with Morgan, and Damon could tell quickly what was a result of her heightened nature or her actual personality. Telling a story to the point of hysteric laughter was obviously a result of her heightened emotions, but slapping Damon's hand away from the stereo was a result of her personality. When she did this, of course, Damon felt the need to retaliate. Instead, he found himself playing along with her, almost _enjoying _his companion. Then, as time went by, he realized what a pain in the ass she would be.

She fell asleep sometime after the sun came to high noon and didn't wake until Damon had pulled the car to a complete stop in front of his old home—the Salvatore boarding house. He surveyed it through the windshield and sighed, not one for sentimental moments ever since turning off his emotions. When he looked at the house, all he could see was a deep abyss of nothingness; he felt absolutely no emotions towards his home at all.

Morgan had woken when Damon opened the car door and leaned inside to carry her into the house, deciding not to disturb the rare moments of peace he would get when she wasn't awake and ruining his emotionless solitude. Instead, as he tried to grab her from the passenger seat, Morgan stirred and opened her eyes to find him right in front of her. Damon leaned back to give her space.

"What are you doing?" she asked, watching him with cautious eyes as he straightened and leaned his arm against the car.

"Come on, get out." Damon stepped back so she could get out of the passenger seat, and she closed her own door for herself and took a look at the house in front of her. Morgan was so fixated on the house that she didn't notice Damon disappear around the car.

"Holy shit," she exclaimed breathlessly. Damon popped open the trunk of his car as she asked, "Is this your house?"

"Was," Damon corrected. "It _was _my house. Now, it belongs to no one."

Morgan spun on her heel after looking over the length of the large house some more. "I'll take it off your hands." She walked over to the truck, but stood behind the hood so she couldn't see anything. Her head was feeling light and dizzy, but she was able to keep herself upright. "What are you doing? Did you pack me an overnight bag or something?"

"Nope." Damon reached inside and grunted as he pulled something out. Suddenly, Morgan's breath took as she saw him shut the hood with a body in his hand. Her eyes blazed with fury and confusion.

"Who the hell is that?" she asked, raising her tone. "Why? Now _that _is kidnapping!"

"Yes, it is," Damon agreed with a shrug as he shifted the teenage boy over his shoulder. "But he's the one who's gonna get you that daylight ring."

"Him?" Morgan pointed incredulously, finding it hard to believe. "_He's _a witch—sorry, I guess the term is _warlock _or something?" The dark-haired vampire sighed.

"You don't kidnap the witches, gorgeous," he told her, giving his new companion a lesson of his own making. Damon began to saunter towards the house. A smirk overcame his lips. "You kidnap the boyfriend."

On Damon's shoulder, Jeremy Gilbert swung to the pace of Damon's walking, knocked out cold.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Review please!**


End file.
